


The Children and Maxwell

by cavalcadeCrumbling



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: I'm not sure what this is, M/M, and it's the one thing I've written recently that I'm actually ok with, but it sure is maxwill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 01:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21218024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cavalcadeCrumbling/pseuds/cavalcadeCrumbling
Summary: Wilson listens to Wendy and Maxwell have a conversation.





	The Children and Maxwell

Maxwell got along fairly well with the kids.

Of course this was something Wilson noticed, since he'd basically become the adoptive father to all of them. Just recently he had simply walked into camp with Wurt, announcing that if anyone had any objections to having a new campmate they could go make their own. The merm girl was good, though obviously much younger than the kids they already had.

Though the others had warned Wurt to stay away from him, she did not listen, and Wilson had had the chance to see them interact for the first time. She'd come over to peer over his shoulder at the Codex, as interested in books as she was, and at first he had snapped it shut. Until, he'd noticed who it was, and carefully reopened the book.

Wilson remembered quite well the soft way he told he'd there was nothing she'd be able to read within it, but that he'd be happy to show her some of the results of the words. When she accepted, he'd begun to put on a small show, using nightmare fuel to create shadowy visions of creatures and tell a small story, though Wilson hadn't had a good enough view to see what was actually being told. It appeared to have completely captured her attention, though, and he heard her later talking with the other kids and singing his praises.

It had still been a surprise to him when Wendy and Webber had nodded along.

Webber had cheerily recounted a time where Maxwell had shown them how to make top hats from their silk, even though they'd already known how, they'd appreciated the fact that he'd tried. Wendy, however... What she said worried Wilson. It was a very mature standpoint, all things considered: She wasn't his biggest fan, but she understood him. He was like her, she said. If she was left with nothing, he was left with even less.

"How are you coping, Maxwell?"

Well speak of the devils. Wilson was busy weaving traps for rabbits, but he could weave and listen.

"Greetings, Ms Carter. How are you?"

That exchange was the very same the two always had. They spoke differently to each other than they did to every other one of the survivors, and only to each other did they ask how the other was. Never did either actually answer the question. Wilson had always found it peculiar.

"Not well." Oh?

Maxwell appears to pause for a moment. "That is... not good to hear, but I'd have to agree, myself. Perhaps the two of us can trade comforts."

Wilson hears a bit of shuffling, likely Wendy sitting down.

"One of my few ties to this world may be cutting themselves away. A monster is better company than I."

"Oh. Yes, Webber has taken a strong liking to Wurt, haven't they?" Maxwell had been able to understand that? "Have they been excluding you?"

"Not exactly. We still play, yet their attention is almost always on her. I have been abandoned, swept to the side, yet they still pretend as though I have not."

"I can relate. Have you mentioned this to Webber? It may not be deliberate. They do not hate you."

"No. The possibility of it being deliberate makes calling attention to it unfavorable. At least now, they could be content with pretending, wanting to let me down easily. To disrupt that would mean being cut off entirely."

Maxwell sighs. "Yet, you are not-- Well, happy is the wrong word, for sure. You are making yourself more miserable, are you not? There is a very high chance Webber doesn't realize what they are doing, and calling attention to it would bring things back to how they were before. Not only that, but you will have a new friend."

There isn't a reply for a good few seconds. "Do you think Wurt would like Abigail?"

"She appears fascinated by all of us, I am sure she would."

"I think Abigail would like her."

"I do as well."

"Then I will talk to them. Now, it is your turn."

"Er... How about you go work on allowing your sister to take form?"

"If I will speak, you will speak. Much less binds you to this world, and much more threatens to steal you from it."

Another sigh from Maxwell. "Fine, yes. It is... Wilson."

What? Him?

"Troubling," Wendy replies. Wilson can't tell if she's being sarcastic or not, but he's definitely focused on the conversation now.

"I've noticed, recently, that there have been points where he has just been glaring at me, for no reason I can discern."

Ah, darn. He had had to quickly look away from Maxwell a few times, since, yeah, he'd been staring at him. He'd just been... noticing a lot about him, lately. How good he was with the kids, for example. And the fact that he didn't really seem to truly care as much about certain things, as much as he'd like them all to believe he did. He seemed kind of lost, almost. Attaching who he was to what was easy to attach to so he didn't appear completely incompetent.

There was something there, though. Behind that defensive shell. Wilson had been trying to figure out what for a while now.

"I have noticed this as well," Wendy says, and a hint of amusement sliding into her normally monotonous voice.

"And why, pray tell, are you fighting a smile, now? Do you find my struggle to fit in amusing?"

"You do know that Wilson appears to glare most of the time. Are you so sure he was not just staring at you?"

"I still don't see a reason for him to do so."

"I believe he likes you, Maxwell."

Oh. Uh. Wilson slips another weave through, doing his best to look busy, just in case they look over to where he is. He hadn't... considered that possibility, but it did line up with his sudden fascination with the man. He'd say that he found him interesting rather than liked him, but that would be an awfully flimsy excuse. He loved interesting things, after all. Oh god.

Some odd whisper of old society touches the back of his mind, reprimanding him and offering that gentlemen were to stick with ladies. He bites the inside of his cheek, trying his best not to show signs of distress. He was supposed to be a gentleman. Though, in this, ragtag group, could anyone really judge him for something like that? Could he be called a servant of the devil if they happily camped with an imp?

He'd heard of a book, a few. The names of the authors and the true contents were lost to him, but, things had seemed to be changing, just a bit.

Okay. It was probably telling that he cared far more about the fact it would mean he was interested in a man rather than interested in Maxwell specifically. Very, very telling. Wilson takes in a breath, tuning back into the conversation. He'd missed a bit, in his minor panic.

"You call me mature, and yet you do not accept my opinion on a mature topic?" That's Wendy.

"This isn't a schoolyard, Ms Carter. Besides you, Webber, Wurt, and Abigail, we are all grown adults. These things are serious."

Ah. Maxwell's being tough again. Stubborn man. It was almost endea... Oh christ. How hadn't he noticed before? He's catching himself so much now that it's been brought to his attention.

Wilson looks down at the trap in his hands, sighing. It was complete, now. Seems like a bit of a sign, actually. Should he go over there, ask what's going on like he hadn't heard it all? It wouldn't hurt.

He tucks the trap into his pocket, standing up and walking over. "Good day to you, Wendy! And, heh, decent day to you, Maxwell." It was practically a joke to him, at this point, to make the distinction. Even though he uh, obviously, didn't have a disdain for him anymore.

They both startle at his appearance, Maxwell turning to look away as Wendy makes her way over to him. "Mister Wilson," she begins.

"What may I do for you?"

"Do you like Mister Maxwell?"

Wilson finds himself a little more startled by this than he expected. Wendy was usually very blunt, but, wow. "That's uh... a question. I, certainly don't hate him anymore?" Ugh, he can feel the warmth on his face.

Betraying him even further than he's already dug himself, his eyes flick over to where Maxwell's sitting, looking for a reaction. He seems genuinely surprised, and maybe... flush as well? Not much of a maybe, actually, since he's normally so pale his skin can look blue.

"Why do you ask?" Wilson adds, for the sake of not leaving things silent.  
"He thought you were glaring at him at times, and it was upsetting him."

"Oh, gosh no." To hell with it, let's go all in. We're already on the spot, anyway. "I have much better reasons to look at him."

Wendy lets out an amused and superior puff of air. "So I was correct after all."

"I wouldn't call that correct," Maxwell says. He's still not looking over at the two of them. "All he said is that he doesn't hate me."

Wendy looks half convinced that the solution to this would be murder, but she holds back and simply gestures toward him. "Does this look like someone who doesn't like you, Mister Maxwell?"

Wilson finds himself giggling awkwardly, and he brings a hand to his mouth incredulously. That... wasn't very like him, was it. Maybe this wasn't a schoolyard, but boy he felt like it was right now.

At the very least that seemed to have finally drawn Maxwell's attention, and he once again seems genuinely taken aback. "I, suppose not."

Wendy hums a small tune. "I think I will go work on allowing my sister to take form, now."

Maxwell sputters so much he ends up coughing, and Wilson moves to put a hand on his back. This wasn't what he'd expected out of today, but...

He certainly wasn't going to complain, especially when Maxwell looks up at him in a way that makes him very aware that a few of his barriers had been broken through.


End file.
